


unravel

by bread_boy



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Jealousy, M/M, Miscommunication, Sexual Content, and all that good stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:20:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26932774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bread_boy/pseuds/bread_boy
Summary: Seungmin wants to be transparent, but here, in their tiny dorm room encased in shadow, nothing has ever been more complicated than Minho.(Or so he thinks.)
Relationships: Kim Seungmin/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 15
Kudos: 204





	unravel

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is loosely inspired by minho's vlog during their chuseok break; everything else is just me and the void in my head craving for more 2min fics in the tag

Seungmin is already at the heels of a late afternoon nap, the promise of a dreamless sleep loosening his tightly-wound muscles before he's practically yanked back into full wakefulness at the sound of the doorknob twisting, followed by the familiar creak as the door swings open.

He lays in his bunk bed, allowing himself a moment to bleed back into reality, his heart readjusting its staccato into a steady rhythm. It's then that everything else catches up to him; the knowledge that no one else was supposed to be at the dorm, at least not until Felix and Chan got back from their little play date later tonight, and that the footsteps of whoever's in the room lead directly to the bunk bed he'd been staring at before his eyelids had fluttered shut.

"Hyung?" Seungmin murmurs, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. The room is barely bathed in natural light now, shadows looming at the corners as if waiting to blanket everything in muted hues once the dusk finally sets.

And sure enough, Minho is there, standing by his own bunk bed, two heavy bags on either side of his socked feet.

"Hey." he greets casually, the corner of his mouth quirked just so.

Seungmin rolls his neck before clambering down the narrow ladder, planting his feet on the ground before continuing, "I thought you wouldn't be back until tomorrow."

Minho makes a noncommittal noise as he shrugs off his jacket, turning away from Seungmin to hang it over the bed frame. "Change of plans, I guess. I got to see my babies, so I'm happy either way."

With Minho's back turned to him, Seungmin lets his fondness show, an endeared smile splitting across his face as Minho makes offhand comments about his beloved cats; how Doongi is still just as talktative, how Sooni's recently gained a bit of weight and how Dori remains just as skittish in front of a camera.

Seungmin listens attentively, barely making a sound as he basks in this momentary peace between them. He's never been much of a romantic, but now, in the twilight, Seungmin thinks there's never been a lovelier sight than Minho's silhouette.

He has half a mind to voice this out, just so he can see where that could possibly lead them into the night, but any and all words clog at the back of his throat when Minho turns around to face him.

With no extra layer blocking the smooth column of Minho's neck, it's impossible to miss it– a dark, flushed welt blooming proudly on his skin, right over his pulse point where Seungmin knows Minho is most sensitive.

It comes to him in flashes; the shock, ice-cold and unforgiving, then the anger, hot and all-consuming, pinpricks nipping at each pore in his body until Seungmin expels the build up in one singular shaky breath.

"Hyung," he says it so delicately, like his fingernails aren't biting into the flesh of his palms in that very moment. "who'd you meet up with during break?"

And there's that expression again, the one Minho often wears when he thinks Seungmin is overstepping a line, which, now that Seungmin thinks about it, they never mutually expounded on.

It's always been like this between them– Seungmin constantly feeling like he's toeing the cusp of _something_ while Minho slinks past him every time, just within his reach but still out of bounds all the same.

"...just some friends." Minho eventually replies, his frown deepening as Seungmin takes a deliberate step towards him. He stands there, rooted to the same spot, even when Seungmin is close enough that he has to tilt his head up to meet his gaze evenly.

Seungmin's jaw tightens; jealousy sits on his tongue like a vile little thing, his entire face pinched with the aftertaste of all the ugly thoughts, the unwarranted images flashing in his mind.

Minho's pretty eyes on someone else, crinkling at the corners; Minho's slick lips parted in muted pleasure, all kinds of sounds pulled right out of him; Minho's lithe form beneath a cage of shoulders that aren't Seungmin's, head nestled in the juncture where neck meets shoulder, leaving their mark in a way Minho's never allowed with Seungmin.

It's this thought that spurs Seungmin into action, crowding Minho against the bed frame as he grips the metal bars on either side of his head.

Confusion overtakes the defiance in Minho's gaze, and shamelessly, almost without him realizing it, a flash of desire follows, quickly pooling in those tantalizingly dark eyes of his until Seungmin can make out his own outline in those blown-out pupils.

"What are you doing?" There's a steadiness to Minho's voice that gets right under Seungmin's skin. It's unfair, how Minho can keep his composure all while matching the fire in Seungmin's eyes. Like Seungmin is the only one destined to quietly fall apart, again and again, between the two of them.

"I could ask you that." Seungmin sneers, hands sliding from cold metal to warm, solid shoulders. He doesn't give Minho time to react before he's pushing at him, hard, practically folding Minho in half as he shoves him into the narrow space of his bunk bed.

Seungmin quickly clambers up and over his prone form, pinning Minho down with both hands around his wrists, breathing sharply through his nose as he bears his weight down.

He wants to do a lot of things; wants to wrap a hand around Minho's neck, press his thumb into the welt until Minho's gritting his teeth, toes curling into the mattress. Wants to swallow any sounds he could draw out of him. Wants to rip him apart then piece him together, slowly, laboriously, so that he'll never be the same Minho the next time he steps out into the daylight.

"Seungminnie," He's snapped out of his thoughts by that one word, uttered so sweetly, so softly, that Seungmin has no choice but to heed Minho's call. "did you miss hyung that much?"

And it's the way he says it, light and frustratingly offhanded– like this was all just a game to him– that has Seungmin's face shuttering, shoulders drawing in when he comes to the sudden realization that perhaps, more than anything, he just wants Minho to take him seriously.

Seungmin curves his back inwards until he can tuck his face into the nook between Minho's neck and shoulder, and says shakily, bitterly, "You're being mean."

Beneath him, Minho stills, like he hadn't been expecting this turnout. He manages to pry his wrists out of Seungmin's grip, yet the shove that Seungmin expects never comes. Instead, Minho runs his fingers through Seungmin's hair, his other hand cupping the nape of his neck, holding him steady. Grounding him.

They lay there, one on top of the other, engulfed in the evening's shadow, until Seungmin feels nothing but the solid warmth of Minho's body, the plush resistance of his thighs against Seungmin's own, the slick sound of his lips parting as he hesitates on what to say next.

But Seungmin thinks they don't need words. At least, not right now, not when he can easily turn his face and press a kiss on the soft skin under Minho's jaw instead.

The action elicits a gasp out of him, breathy and stuttered, but Seungmin is encouraged by Minho deftly tugging at his hair– just enough for the pleasure to mingle with the pain– before baring his neck further, a silent invitation for more.

Seungmin is careful in his undoing; he kisses the same spot once, twice before trailing up, nosing the prominent line of Minho's jaw as he tongues at the thin skin right over his pulse. He's encouraged by Minho's breathy little whimpers, arms latching around his neck, eyes fluttering shut as Seungmin takes to licking his steadily flushing skin.

Minho has always tasted faintly sweet and salty in the same way he's all tight muscle and soft skin under Seungmin's hands and mouth. He's made of contrasts and anomalies; from the way he's all rigid lines yet rounded edges, from the way his delicate features can turn sharp in a heartbeat, from the way he can make Seungmin both love and despise him, in equal measure.

For one delirious moment, Seungmin considers latching his lips around the same spot somebody else had claimed. He wants to break the skin there, sucking until it bursts and blooms and burns just for him. Until there's no traces of anyone else but him.

The thought makes Seungmin heady, all logic and reason flying right out the window as his teeth sink into Minho's skin, like a warning of what's to come. But then Minho stiffens under him, valleys of pliant flesh hardening into resistance as he hisses, "No marks."

Seungmin pries himself away from Minho, their bodies separating like velcro. Planting his hands on either side of Minho's head, Seungmin takes in the sight of him; high cheekbones tinted pink, lips spit-shiny and bitten, eyes at half-mast as he stares back just as unabashedly.

He wants to point out the injustice of it all– how Minho can lay there beneath him, nothing but open desire in his gaze while someone else's mark sits on his skin. It's a sobering reminder that there is only so much Seungmin can take from him, that Seungmin can miss him over the entirety of their holiday break but can't be warranted the same yearning. That Seungmin can harbor all these intense emotions that sometimes feel too big for one person, and have no respite in bearing all this weight.

He stems the flow of hurt from pouring out his mouth, doesn't want to give Minho the sick satisfaction of it. So with herculean effort, Seungmin starts to withdraw, putting his weight on his haunches so he can maneuver out of Minho's bed, all while swallowing down the thick lump of shame.

But then Minho halts him with a hand around his wrist, tight and almost white-knuckled. "Where are you going?"

His voice is small, panicked in the growing distance between them. Another contradiction, Seungmin notes at the back of his mind as he levels Minho with an even gaze. "What do you mean? You said no."

"I said no _marks_ ," Minho bites back, and it must've been the shadows dancing across his face, because for a moment Seungmin swears he looks hurt. Desperate, even. "fuck, okay, just–"

Then Minho's hiking his shirt up, tucking the hem under his chin, and under the faint glow of the moonlight Seungmin drinks in the sight of his toned stomach, the peaks of his chest, the hollow dips of his collarbones.

The implication isn't lost on him, but Seungmin still searches Minho's face for confirmation, leaning over him once again, casting him further into the shadows.

Minho runs a hand down Seungmin's arm in response– slow, sensual, decided. He caresses the inside of Seungmin's elbow with his thumb, murmuring, "Just don't go overboard."

The effect those words have on Seungmin is instantaneous; he's nodding his head, frantically, blindingly, a promise at the seam of his lips before he's moving down, situating himself over Minho's heaving chest.

It's an exercise in restraint, the way Seungmin starts off slow, but it's also an indulgence he's finally giving in to. He traces prominent lines with his lips, kisses where Minho is soft and pink, then bites once Minho starts whining low in his throat.

The marks come soon enough, one by one, saturated by saliva as Seungmin licks the bruised skin, both reverent and apologetic. As promised, he doesn't allow himself to get too lost in the task of Minho's undoing, pushing himself up so he can survey his handiwork instead.

So far, there are two peonies blooming on the swell of Minho's right pec, a carnation between the jutted lines of his rib cage, another bursting into full bloom just above his navel. Seungmin contemplates leaving one more, this by time by the underside of Minho's collarbone, when a hand closes over the telling shape of his arousal, jutting slightly from his dark sweatpants.

Seungmin hisses, jerking his hips into the warm cradle of Minho's hand purely by instinct, before he's choking out, " _Hyung_ –"

"This too," Minho replies, his voice velvet-thick, eyes blown wide as he palms Seungmin some more. "want it all over me, Seungmin-ah."

They're entering dangerous territory now; Felix and Chan could come back at any minute, and Seungmin knows he'd be too far gone to explain what's going on except for what it actually is. Then Minho licks his lips, makes a show of dragging his tongue before he begs, "Please, Minnie." and Seungmin is lost. Lost to the desire, lost to the adrenaline, lost to Minho, like he was always destined to be.

Minho helps him pull his sweatpants down, just enough to free Seungmin's cock from its confines. He's already wet around the head, a direct effect from taking his time in marking Minho all for himself. Minho must have realized this, because then he's cooing appreciatively, almost like he's flattered, before he wraps a dainty hand around Seungmin.

The first tug has Seungmin groaning, hips absently pumping into the tight circle of Minho's fingers. He feels hot all over, lucid with want as he chants Minho's name, throaty and choked off like he could burst into tears at any second.

"So good," Minho sighs, just as affected. He alternates between fast and slow, urgent and teasing, driving Seungmin closer and closer to that titillating edge. "Come on, Seungmin, give it to me– I want it, _fuck_ , please–"

Seungmin was never going to last long, not when he's fantasized about this since the last time Minho had his hands on him, but the sound of Minho begging while working Seungmin roughly has him nosediving into the pleasure embarrassingly fast.

He twitches, once, twice, the swollen head of his cock catching the thin skin between Minho's forefinger and thumb before Seungmin comes, white-hot and thick over Minho's bare torso.

Minho's hand falls limply to his side, immediately replaced by Seungmin's own as he milks himself further, wants to give it all to Minho, especially when he'd begged so prettily, so shamelessly.

"Hyung, Minho-hyung, _ah_ –" He chants like he's half out of his mind, like he wants Minho to know that it's only because of him that it feels this good. That it's only ever going to be him, if Seungmin were honest enough to admit it.

Minho helps him ride out the crest of his orgasm, murmuring praises and running his hands up and down Seungmin's thighs, until the last feeble spurt lands on his abdomen, until Seungmin nearly collapses on top of him, limbs loose and jelly-like as Minho eases him to his side instead.

There's always that period of sobriety that follows right after, like a bridge you have to cross before your body catches up with the exhaustion and renders you asleep, sated. Seungmin hates it, especially now, hyper-aware of Minho's eyes trained on him as he grabs the packet of wipes he knows Minho keeps tucked between the wall and bed frame.

He's in the middle of taking one out when Minho asks, "What brought this along?" and when Seungmin looks up, a dull thud of arousal hits him squarely in the chest as he watches Minho run his fingers through the mess he'd left, smearing it across his skin now littered with deep purples.

But then the question sinks in, and suddenly Seungmin is faced with the sobering reality that this will never just be it for Minho. That he could want Seungmin, but he'd want other people too, tied to nothing and to no one. At least, not here, in this tiny dorm room, with a boy who'd follow him to the ends of the earth even without asking.

"Hey," Minho drags him back, both literally and figuratively, his clean hand on Seungmin's cheek. "you're getting lost in there again."

The surprising tenderness in how Minho holds him, the unwarranted concern in how he surveys Seungmin, the easy familiarity in how he tucks himself into Seungmin's side– these are all the things Seungmin will remember as he finally opens the Pandora's box and says, "Why'd you let them touch you, hyung?"

Minho frowns, a repeat of his expression from earlier. "What are you talking about?"

This time, Seungmin doesn't back down from the hurt, and instead gestures to Minho's neck where the evidence is still infuriatingly present. "I take it you had a good break, huh?"

Minho brings a hand up to feel the spot, and immediately clarity dawns on his face. He twists around until he's able to pull his phone out from his back pocket, opening the front camera to angle his neck towards the screen.

"The fuck," Instead of shock, or maybe even mortification, a look of tired exasperation settles into Minho's features. Then he's shaking his head, grabbing the wipes from Seungmin as he tends to himself, all while mumbling, "you're unbelievable. All that from a fucking _mosquito bite_? Are you actually stupid?"

Seungmin blinks, then deadpans. "What."

"You heard me." Minho stops long enough to shoot him a long suffering glare. "I got it when I went fishing with my friends. And _yes_ , we did have fun. But I'm sure that wasn't the kind of fun you had in mind."

It's in the middle of this tirade that Seungmin realizes, with a sinking feeling in his gut, that he may have been too rash in his earlier assumption. That, and the fact that he hadn't been wearing his prescription glasses in the dimness of the room.

"I'm sorry." Seungmin blurts out, but the damage has been done; Minho refuses to do so much as look at him, intensely focused on the task of removing any traces of Seungmin from his skin. "Hyung–"

"Save it, Seungmin." There's a tremble in Minho's voice, breaking right off the last syllable of his name, and that sound itself is enough to harden Seungmin's resolve to make things right. To no longer be afraid.

Seungmin grabs Minho by the shoulders, his hold firm yet gentle, because even in his encasement of thorns, Minho has always been so tender inside.

"You don't get it, hyung." Seungmin starts, endures the flash of anger behind Minho's eyes before he continues, "There's never been anyone else for me ever since– ever since this _thing_ between us. Shit, there was never anyone else before you, alright? But I'm too much of a coward to say all of that, so I sit here and pretend, every day, and it kills me because I just–"

At this Seungmin sags, suddenly exhausted. He just wants to burrow somewhere nice and warm, hopefully in the cavern of Minho's arms, if he'll still have him after this.

"I just want to be with you."

Everything is still for a moment, like time itself had stopped so both of them can absorb the weight of this admission, then suddenly Minho's cupping his face, eyes light with a vulnerability that has Seungmin steadying him as he climbs on to Seungmin's lap.

"And what makes you think I don't feel the same way?"

Seungmin's head spins from their proximity, from Minho's words, and from the hope it spurs in him. "You– what?"

"It's just been you for me. All this time." Minho pronounces each word with great care, eyes nearly cross-eyed as he leans in, in, in until there's nothing separating them, until each exhale becomes the other's inhale. "And I want to be with you too."

"Oh," Seungmin breathes, then, "oh... oh wow."

Minho's face breaks into a smile at this, eyes crinkling at the corners as he scrunches his nose. "I know, I'm quite the catch."

Seungmin doesn't even have it in him to act annoyed, instead curling his fingers around one of Minho's wrists. He guides Minho's hand to his lips, kissing the imprint of his affection on his open palm.

"You are." Seungmin readily agrees, and suddenly there's no need for words, not when Minho's looking at him like there's nothing else he'd rather do but kiss him.

The sentiment goes both ways, clear as day on their faces as they inch closer and closer until space itself becomes irrelevant.

They will talk later, try to navigate and sort their place in the world and with each other, but for now they let themselves unravel in this tiny dorm room where the shadows lurk, and where love can finally take shape.

**Author's Note:**

> if you asked me how i got around to shipping 2min i'll just shrug and say it's the divorced couple thing they got going. it's hot/sexy/h*rny okay sue me
> 
> anyways!! thank you for reading :D


End file.
